


Glass Butterfly

by iidkkdii



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iidkkdii/pseuds/iidkkdii
Summary: Chandler's hurting. Joey's there. It's emotional.





	Glass Butterfly

Janice was Chandler's only hope for love. Janice with her nasally voice and her machine-gun laughter, but god dammit, she loved him. And now, he's alone again, with no one to hold him together when pieces crumble.

 

Sitting on his bed, cross-legged and arms crossed, he runs through Janice in his head. 

 

Janice. Janice. Why can't he get her out of his head? Janice. Janice. He hates the way her name tastes on his tongue, how bitter it is. Janice. She wasn't even that pretty, and she drove him crazy, so why can't he forget her? 

 

Janice, Janice. He digs his nails into his sides, hoping pain will evict her from his mind. Janice. He squeezes his shut, so hard tears dampen his eyelashes. He scratches the surface of his skin. Janice. Janice. 

 

His throat is tight, and his lungs don't allow oxygen. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, seeing stars and million galaxies behind his eyelids. 

 

Chandler hates crying. He hates how his throat closes up and hates the feeling of being so vulnerable. Even if he's alone. Maybe it's worse like that. 

 

He hates how numb he feels after crying, so he doesn't allow himself any tears for anybody or any reason anymore. Not after his parents divorce. Not ever. 

 

Janice. Her presence sneaks its way into his brain again, picking and tugging at memories of her. He remembers their intimacy, how she clung to him and how she said his name. 

 

He remembers breaking up with her the most, since that's most of their time spent together. The first was brutal, awkward and tense; the second just as bad. Everytime was awful. 

 

His throat tightens a touch more and his eyes well up. Chandler rubs his eyes hard, trying to ignore the waves of depression threatening to drown him. 

 

Why can't he stop thinking about her? She wasn't that special to him in the first place. A mistake. She was a mistake. 

 

Why can't he think about somebody else? The woman in Joey’s room, breathing softly and rustling the bedclothes with her tiny, sleepy movements? Joey himself? 

 

Ah, Joey. His roommate, his sun in the rain, his out of work actor. Joey, the one who's been there for so many panic attacks, the one who hyped him up before dates, the one who eased Chandler's nightmares back into the dark recesses of his mind. Joey, Joey, Joey. 

 

Joey. His best friend. The only best friend he's had since Ross. His closest friend, the one he trusts the most with his broken, shattered heart. He trusts Joey with the broken bits of his soul, trusts Joey to help put them back together. 

 

The lump that was down in Chandler’s stomach lurches its way to the back of his throat and he chokes. He slaps his hands over his mouth, trying to cover the sound of his wrecked sobs. 

 

Chandler hates crying. And here he is, crying over… crying… why was he crying? He doesn't miss… her. Joey’s in the next room, sleeping next to a beautiful woman who he won't ever call again. 

 

Tears slip over his cheeks, pooling up where his hands makes contact with his face and dripping over his fingers. His eyes squeeze shut again, trying to stop the flow, but he just spurs it on. 

 

He's alone, shrouded in the terrifying darkness of his bedroom. The only light is from the moon which is pale and dim, lighting up only parts of the room Chandler can't see. 

 

He's alone. Lonely in the inky blackness, crying clear tears and feeling blue. He alone, and that's scarier than what could be lurking underneath the gym bag in his closet. 

 

Alone. All alone, like always. When he needs somebody, there's always nobody. Nobody to comfort him, except…

 

Except Joey. Joey, the sun in the rain, the promise of tomorrow from today. Joey. Joey. Kind, caring, protective Joey. 

 

He wishes Joey was here with him, here to hold his broken pieces together, if only for a minute. He wishes Joey could be by his side forever, there for him whenever. He wishes, he wishes. 

 

Chandler's sobs gradually get more and more quiet, before finally ending altogether. 

 

And now comes the crushing numbness. He doesn't feel anything, just lets his hands drop into his empty lap and stare into the dark. He can still feel the dryness of his cheeks. 

 

He still doesn't know why he cried so hard. Maybe the possibility that he just lost his one and only chance at being happy, Janice? Or maybe the possibility that he can't have his protector from his demons forever, Joey? 

 

Still, he's up all night long, knowing there's something very wrong. Be it his heart or his head, he doesn't know. He isn't sure he wants to know. 

 

Chandler's sure that the morning must be coming soon, from how pale moonlight smoothly changes into golden rays of sunlight. Every bone in his body is exhausted, begging for rest or something of that sort. 

 

He can't rest though. It's too hard to close his eyes. He just sees her face, her smile behind his eyes. He can't face her, not again, not after the breakup. 

 

The gold light changes, again, into pale morning light. Joey might be up soon, or his lady friend will be up soon. He hopes it's Joey. 

He lays down onto his back and rolls over, facing the door. He yanks his thick comforter quilt over him. 

 

He can't handle seeing Janice's face again, so he avoids closing his eyes. Every nerve in his body screams at him to shut his eyes and fall asleep, but he can't. He can't risk a nightmare, not when Joey has a date over. 

 

Joey. Maybe Joey could coax him to fall asleep, with his soft voice and pretty words. He tells Chandler stories about princes who fall in love with other princes, about dragons who kidnap maidens to keep them safe, about many wondrous things. 

 

Chandler's favorite is a story about a prince, who meets a peasant boy from another kingdom and they fall in love together, living happily ever after. 

 

Chandler snuggles deeper into his blanket, pulling it up to his nose. Softly, he retells the story to himself. He recounts the prince's kiss with the peasant boy, which Joey described as “a symphony of lips with a chorus of tongue, their own gentle song of passion.” 

 

He hopes that one day he might share a kiss like that with somebody, who loves him more than Janice, who treats him like Joey. 

 

Three knocks at his door, direct his attention to it and he sits up. 

 

“It's open,” he calls softly. The door creaks open and Joey slips inside. 

 

“Hey, Chan. Are you okay? I heard you muttering to yourself all night. You were crying, too,” Joey asks, walking over and kneeling down. 

 

Tired blue eyes meet warm brown ones. Except that Joey’s eyes weren't brown, they were mocha infused with dark chocolate. They were poems about the smell of dirt after it rains, they were a safe house, home. 

 

Joey’s eyes were home, safe and secure, somewhere Chandler could always run back to.  _ Joey _ was home. 

 

Chandler looks into Joey’s eyes, pools of concern and… something Chandler couldn't - or wouldn't - recognize. 

 

“I'm… I don't know,” he says softly, truthfully. “I broke up with Janice yesterday.” 

 

There was no hiding the joy in Joey’s eyes. They brightened and sparkled like diamonds, his smile dazzling Chandler's heart. 

 

“Really? I'm sorry.” But it didn't sound sincere. That's okay, though. Joey hates Janice. 

 

They sit in silence, until Joey puts his hand on Chandler's thigh. Chandler looks at him, confused, emotional, running on empty. 

 

Joey runs his palm up Chandler's leg and then wraps both arms around his waist, hugging him. 

 

“You should get some sleep, Chan Chan Man,” Joey whispers. 

 

“Hurts too much, Joe. I keep… I keep seeing her there,” Chandler tells him. “She's always there behind my eyelids.” 

 

“I'll stay here until you fall asleep,” Joey says, guiding Chandler down onto the bed, tucking him in. 

 

Chandler reminds himself of a little kid in these situations, where he needs to be taken care of and supported. Even more so because of this question. “D’you promise?” 

 

“Pinky promise,” Joey whispers and grabs Chandler's hand, lacing their fingers together. “I'll be here when you wake up.” 

 

Joey runs his thumbs over Chandler’s knuckles, mapping the bone structure beneath the flushed skin. 

 

“What about your…” Chandler asks, voice muffled by his quilt. 

 

“She'll be fine,” Joey says dismissively. “She can wait for a moment.” 

 

Joey and his mocha infused dark chocolate eyes and tan skin and strong arms stayed by Chandler’s side until the tired blue boy fell asleep. And even then, hours into Chandler’s rest, Joey stayed, hand in hand with Chandler.

**Author's Note:**

> did somebody order hurt/comfort chanoey? oh i did okay makes sense


End file.
